Chapter IX

But now it is a year ago,
But now possession crowns endeavor;
I took her in my heart, to grow
And fill the hollow place forever.

REGRET.

O that word REGRET! There have been nights and morns when we have sighed, "Let us alone, Regret! We are content To throw thee all our past, so thou wilt sleep For aye." But it is patient, and it wakes; It hath not learned to cry itself to sleep, But plaineth on the bed that it is hard.

We did amiss when we did wish it gone And over: sorrows humanize our race; Tears are the showers that fertilize this world; And memory of things precious keepeth warm The heart that once did hold them. They are poor That have lost nothing; they are poorer far Who, losing, have forgotten; they most poor Of all, who lose and wish they MIGHT forget.

For life is one, and in its warp and woof There runs a thread of gold that glitters fair, And sometimes in the pattern shows most sweet Where there are sombre colors. It is true That we have wept. But O! this thread of gold, We would not have it tarnish; let us turn Oft and look back upon the wondrous web, And when it shineth sometimes we shall know That memory is possession.

I.

When I remember something which I had, But which is gone, and I must do without, I sometimes wonder how I can be glad, Even in cowslip time when hedges sprout; It makes me sigh to think on it,--but yet My days will not be better days, should I forget.